


Generosity and other terrible things

by fratboyoforome



Series: To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fucked Up, Fucking, I'm Sorry Tolkien, I'm an awful human being, Light Bondage, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Sibling Incest, anyway, brothers boinking, celegorm pov, his pov is so easy to write compared to curufin ok, i'm still terrible at tags btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 18:47:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fratboyoforome/pseuds/fratboyoforome
Summary: Celegorm returns from the hunt, wishing for quiet. Instead he gets a strangely generous Curufin.





	Generosity and other terrible things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiveOakWithMoss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/gifts), [TheLionInMyBed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLionInMyBed/gifts).



> inspired by [june's](http://imindhowwelayinjune.tumblr.com) comment on my last silm story abt these two. so here you go, june, terrible brothers fucking/talking abt killing people, hope you like it (promise i'll stop gifting all my writing to you as soon as you stop giving me inspiration).
> 
> also gifted to [thelioninmybed](http://thelioninmybed.tumblr.com) whose real name i don't actually know, but whose version of maedhros/maglor has basically become my personal headcanon for those two nerds - as a thank you, have their brothers boinking.
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://fratboy-of-orome.tumblr.com) for a chat abt anything

“My lord Celegorm,” the voice is accompanied by a knock on the door. Celegorm doesn’t react. “My lord,” the voice says again, “your brother requests your presence. Important news has reached him and…”

With a growl Celegorm climbs to his feet and walks unsteadily to wrench open the door, and glare at the woman standing outside – it’s one of Maedhros’ loyal servants. He glowers down at her.

“Tell my cursed brother,” he growls, “that if he wants something from me, he can come get it himself.”

The woman takes a step back, clearly frightened, but then steals herself and meets his gaze head-on. “Lord Maedhros has requested your presence, m’lord. He said to drag you down, if I had to.”

“Don’t care,” Celegorm sneers. “Now begone!”

He slams the door in her face, without waiting for an answer, and, after a moment, he hears the sound of her steps retreating down the hallway. With a satisfied smile, he returns to his place by the fire.

Having just returned from nine days of hunting, he feels entitled to some rest, as far from his brothers as possible.

When he’d left Amon Ereb, it had been to escape the never-ending drama of his brothers; Maedhros and Maglor and their constant attempts at murdering each other (Maglor almost seems to enjoy wandering around the fortress like an annoying, weeping spirit, covered in bruises; he always did have a flair for dramatics), and Caranthir and the Ambarussa and their constant talk of how to strengthen their defences or whatever. Boring stuff.

Celegorm never had a head for logistics, not like Caranthir does, and certainly not like Curufin. But Curufin stays in the forge, refusing to talk to any of them, though he does sometimes visit Celegorm’s chambers late at night. It’s violent, the way Celegorm likes best, but Curufin is always gone before morning.

It hurts, but Celegorm resolves not to show it. It wouldn’t do him any good.

When he returns from the hunt, it is to the realisation that nothing has changed. Maglor is still a dirty spectre in the hallways, Caranthir is still busy with the fortifications, Maedhros still sits in the grand hall with a nasty smile on his ugly face, and Curufin is still locked in the forge.

Ridiculous.

So Celegorm goes to his rooms, sheds his dirty clothes, and rests on the great bearskin rug by the fire, with a bottle of Dwarven ale by his side. As far as relaxing goes, it’s not the worst thing he’s even experienced. Of course, it would be better with someone ( _Curvo_ , his mind supplies treacherously) to suck his cock, but he can make do with memory and fantasy, when he can’t have the real thing.

He lies back, silver hair fanning out like a pale halo around his head, and palms his hardening cock, while picturing his little brother’s dark hair, grey eyes, and wicked smirk. Celegorm knows exactly what it feels like to have Curufin’s slim lips wrapped around his cock, knows how Curufin loves having his throat fucked, even if he always denies it.

Stroking his erection slowly, he imagines it’s Curufin’s mouth around him, while those piercing grey eyes look up at him, analysing every breath he takes.

Celegorm is so caught up in the fantasy, that he doesn’t hear the door opening, nor does he notice anyone entering the room, until Curufin sighs loudly behind him and says: “why do you always insist on doing this without locking your door? Honestly, brother.” Celegorm grins sharply and looks up at Curufin.

“Oh, brother dear,” he says on a moan, “I am only waiting for you to join me.” He gives Curufin a lecherous smile. ”Come in and close the door, and you can do whatever you want with me.”

“I can always do whatever I want with you,” Curufin says, rolling his eyes, but he closes the door behind him and enters the room completely. For several long heartbeats, he stares at Celegorm in quiet contemplation, and Celegorm can barely hold back a shiver of anticipation.

“Stop touching yourself,” Curufin says then, his voice low and silky. It is without a doubt an order, but Celegorm doesn’t hurry to obey. He strokes himself twice more, smiling his sharp smile at Curufin’s raised eyebrow, before pointedly removing his hands. Curufin settles himself in a chair and watches Celegorm patiently, waiting until he squirms from impatience, before giving his next order.

“Lie on the bed, and close your eyes.” This time Celegorm hurries to comply, knowing from the glint in Curufin’s eyes, that he has something delicious in mind.

When Celegorm has situated himself on the bed with his head on the pillows, his legs spread slightly, completely on display, and closed his eyes, he receives another command: “put your hands above your head.”

Celegorm stretches his arms above his head, flexing his muscles slightly as he does, knowing how good his tan skin and silver hair looks in the low light from the fireplace, and laces his fingers together.

With his eyes closed, he has to rely on his hearing, to figure out where Curufin is and what he’s planning, but Curufin can move without making even a whisper of sound, and consequently, Celegorm almost jumps out of his skin, when Curufin next speaks, right next to him.

“Well done, brother,” he says, keeping the same cadence as before, only now it’s laced with wicked humour, “though I do not think, I told you to put yourself on display quite so.” Celegorm opens his mouth to retort, but Curufin’s hand covers his mouth before he can make a sound.

“You are a shameless exhibitionist, I know,” Curufin says, so annoyed that his eye-roll is basically audible, “please keep quiet.” Celegorm smiles, pleased with himself. He can hear Curufin walk away to pick up… something… and then returning. Celegorm’s eyes fly open in surprise, when something soft and silky is quickly wrapped around his wrists. He twists his head, trying to see what it is, and catches a glint of something light blue. He frowns slightly, while Curufin ties him to the headboard, trying to figure out where the light blue silk comes from.

Curufin prefers dark colours after all, while Celegorm himself prefers furs. It could be Caranthir’s, but he prefers red to blue… And that particular shade… He sucks in a breath, when he realises.

“… did you steal those sheets from Felagund’s caves, brother?” he asks, grinning wickedly. “How _could_ you?”

“It is the only fabric strong enough to hold you,” says Curufin without looking at him, “and did I tell you to open your eyes?” Obediently Celegorm closes his eyes again, while Curufin finishes the knots. Celegorm pulls on the sheets, testing the strength and tightness of the bonds. It’s tight enough that he can’t get free, but not so tight as to cut off circulation.

It’s perfect.

His eyes fly open again, when Curufin straddles him, still fully clothed, and rubs lightly against Celegorm’s neglected erection. He bucks up against Curufin, and groans, when Curufin drags blunt fingernails down his broad chest. Curufin smiles, razor-sharp, and bends down to bite Celegorm’s left nipple lovingly.

“What were you thinking about, when I came in?” Curufin asks, biting Celegorm’s neck lightly.

“Of… I…” Celegorm  gasps, pulling on the restraints, while Curufin wraps an elegant hand around his cock and strokes him lightly.

“Of what, brother?” Curufin repeats.

“Your… mouth…” Celegorm manages, “on my cock…” Curufin stops stroking him, looking thoughtful.

“Well,” he says, unbuttoning his robes slowly, “I suppose I am in a generous mood.” He slips of his robes and throws them carelessly on the floor, before slipping down the bed, until he’s lying between Celegorm’s legs, eyes high with his cock.

Curufin blows gently on the tip, before licking a stripe along the thick vein from the root to the tip. Celegorm groans and tries to lift his hips, but is held down by Curufin’s hands on his hips. Curufin gives a little laugh and then swallows Celegorm down to the root in one go.

Celegorm  moans loudly, pulling on the bonds again, and fighting Curufin’s grip on him.

Curufin pulls up, until he’s only got the very tip of Celegorm’s cock in his mouth, and then swallows him down again. Then he does something wicked and wonderful with his tongue, that has Celegorm panting and cursing.

“Curvo, Curvo,” he gasps, “’m close… gonna…” Immediately Curufin pulls off of him and grasps the bottom of Celegorm’s cock tightly, staving off his imminent release. Celegorm whines.

“Patience, brother,” Curufin says, that wicked glint back in his eyes, “we’re not done yet.” He sits up and gives Celegorm’s hip a slap. “Turn over.”

Celegorm groans, but, after some very unattractive wiggling, he manages to turn over, without dislocating his shoulders. Meanwhile Curufin’s weight has disappeared, and when it returns, he’s naked. Celegorm moans at the feeling of skin-on-skin, and then at the feeling of hair-on-skin, when Curufin leans forward, so his long hair trails over Celegorm’s broad back.

“Now, brother,” Curufin whispers into Celegorm’s ear, biting the sensitive tip gently, making Celegorm groan again, “how do you want me to fuck you?”

Celegorm takes a deep breath and pushes his ass against his brother’s heavy erection. “You know,” he pants, “exactly how I want it.”

“Rough and fast it is then,” Curufin says, tugging lightly on the tip of Celegorm’s ear with his teeth, and pressing one, long finger against Celegorm’s lips. Clearly saliva is all the slick he’s getting tonight, and the thought makes a delightful shiver run down his spine, while he sucks on Curufin’s finger.

Before long that same finger is pulled from his mouth and then it’s pressed against his hole, wriggling inside. Celegorm groans at the feeling and, when the finger is pulled out again, he knows it will hurt. Just the way he likes it.

Curufin really is being generous.

Then there’s the blunt head of a cock, pressing up against him, but not entering him, and Celegorm pushes back against. Curufin chuckles and says, “beg me for it, brother, or I’ll get myself off, and leave you like this.”

“You are the worst, most cruel, bastard in the entire universe,” Celegorm gasps, and Curufin slaps his ass lightly.

“If you keep talking like that, I will leave you here,” says Curufin gently, “tied up, moaning like a bitch in heat. Who do you think would find you here? Nelyo? Oh, he’d give it to you, just the way you want it.” Celegorm squirms. “Or maybe,” Curufin continues mercilessly, “you’d prefer Makalurë, hm? He would let you free, so you could hold him down, and make him feel like you’d forced yourself on him, give him another reason to weep and moan.”

“You devil,” Celegorm groans, “you know, you’re the one I want. Fuck me. Please. Fuck me and pull my hair. Fuck me, so I can still feel you tomorrow. Fuck me, the way we both know, you want to.”

“Your wish is my command,” Curufin says with sarcasm, but his cock finally, finally pushes through the tight ring of muscles, drawing a long moan from Celegorm. It burns so _good_.

Curufin gives him no time to adjust, before pulling out and slamming back in. Celegorm pants into his pillow.

“Oh no, brother mine,” Curufin says, grasping a handful of Celegorm’s silver hair and pulling his head back, “I want to hear you.”

He fucks him hard and fast, and on a particularly deep thrust, he finally hits that little point that sends sparks of pleasure all the way up Celegorm’s spine. Celegorm has given up, trying to swallow his noises, and simply lets loose.

“Oh, oh, Varda’s tits, Curvo,” he moans, “right there, right there…” Curufin keeps hitting the spot over and over, until Celegorm comes with a shout. Even though Celegorm is shaking, Curufin doesn’t stop fucking him, until he, groaning deeply, spends deep inside Celegorm.

He slips out of Celegorm and reaches up untie his hands. Celegorm groans deeply, when he can finally relax his arms. He rests his head on folded arms, and looks searchingly at Curufin.

His little brother looks surprisingly loose and relaxed, and marvellously dishevelled.

“So,” Celegorm says after a moment, “not that I didn’t enjoy that, Curvo, but you do not come to me very often, and certainly not to indulge my wishes. What has happened in my absence?”

Curufin breathes deep for a minute, before finally looking at Celegorm with a wild fire burning in his eyes. The sight reminds Celegorm of their father’s last moment of madness.

“Well?” he prods.

“We received news from my woman in Doriath,” Curufin says, and the fire in his eyes grows more intense, “Lúthien’s brat, Díor, has been crowned king.”

“So fucking what?” scoffs Celegorm. “Why should I give a shit about him?”

“Because,” Curufin says, “he wears the Nauglamír around his neck.”

“Again,” says Celegorm impatiently, “why the fuck should I care about Felagund’s heirlooms?”

“Think, you fool,” says Curufin, and now it’s his turn to sound impatient, “what did Thingol have the Naugrim fasten in the Nauglamír, before they killed him?”

“I don’t…” Celegorm starts to say, but then realisation hits him. “Great Eru,” he whispers, “the Silmaril that Lúthien stole. He wears it around his neck?”

“Yes,” says Curufin, “boasts of it, even, or so my spies say. And tonight, I have finally managed to convince our brothers that we must attack Doriath as soon as possible. Think, brother,” he trails a hand down Celegorm’s breast, tweaking a nipple on his way, “by this time next year, we could have avenged your broken heart, my broken thigh, and have reclaimed one third of our father’s legacy.”

Celegorm is taken aback by the naked emotion in Curufin’s voice and on his face, and Celegorm has a rare moment of foresight; he sees Curufin lying dead in a puddle of his own blood, grey eyes staring unseeing at the sky. Celegorm blinks and the vision disappears.

He meets Curufin’s burning gaze head-on and tries to smile convincingly, though the vision unnerves him. “I can hardly wait,” he says, and Curufin smiles, satisfied, before shutting his eyes and falling asleep.

Celegorm, for his part, stays awake all night, incapable of forgetting what he has seen. Visions come to him so rarely, but when they do, they are never wrong. If they go to Doriath, Curufin will die.

In his sleep, Curufin rolls over, slinging an arm around Celegorm’s waist and burrowing against his side. Holding him close, Celegorm presses a light kiss to the top of his brother’s dark head, and resolves to save Curufin’s life or die trying.


End file.
